


Burgeoning Summer

by fawatson



Category: The King Must Die Series - Mary Renault
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1919916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theseus' relationship with Hippolyta</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burgeoning Summer

**Author's Note:**

> **Originally posted to:** maryrenaultfics at LiveJournal on 14/08/2009  
>  **Originally written for:** MRF Summer Challenge 2009   
> **Prompt:** Summer Sojourn  
>  **Acknowledgements:** This story is based on the last two and a half pages of chapter IV, and first page of chapter V, which describe Hippolyta’s pregnancy, childbirth and recovery. Quotations from the book are indicated by italics.

_“Oh, Theseus, I am sick,”_ said Hippolyta.

She was sick often in the mornings, at first. I have been told that is quite common, though it was uncommon for her. Hippolyta always glowed with health and vitality. Not for her the malaise of moon-times that other women routinely suffered. Not that I had ever really known about it, as they dealt with it amongst themselves. But I had been aware that there were times when one woman, sometimes my favourite, would find herself temporarily indisposed, only to return to my bed a week or so later. 

Once Hippolyta had come into my life all that had ended, as I had known only her caresses. So fully had she managed to satisfy me, that, wanting no one else, I had happily abstained those few days each month when she was unable to accommodate my desire. I had been unaware of wanting anything more, yet the news we had made a child together brought great joy. We developed a practice of resting together until mid-morning. She would sip mint tea while I rubbed oil on her belly. It was still as flat as before but I pretended otherwise, teasing her that she was growing large. When she felt better, she too would tease me, saying that I was the one growing large – and would deal with just that, to our mutual pleasure. 

By the fourth month her sickness had left her and she delighted in proving how able she remained. One morning we went hunting. Hippolyta ventured far and fast, outrunning all our companions, following the scent. When at last I caught up, she was draped in one of the trees like a leopardess, her net poised to catch prey. She dropped it on me, and herself sprang down on top. We rolled over and over, tussling like youths. Our wrestling reminded me of those early days as Kerkyon, hunting with the other young men from the village. None of them, however, had been shaped as she was. One thing led to another; it was very late before we rejoined the Court.

Perithoos came to visit, bringing fine linen as a gift for Hippolyta to make into swaddling clothes. She poked fun at him, as she tossed it to her women, and wheedled a trip to Eleusis instead. On their return, he swore he’d steal her from me and make her his own. Never had there been any woman such as she, he proclaimed, and declared we must fight a contest and she would belong to the winner. Hippolyta caught up her spear and announced she would fight her own contest. They sparred, and I refereed; and afterwards we drank spiced wine and told stories of old battles to amuse ourselves. It was a good visit. 

One day Chryse and Amyntor came to see me. “Hippolyta is crying,” they said. 

“Who has upset her,” I asked, angry on her behalf. “Tell me and I will punish him.” 

“No one,” they replied. “It is just the tears of pregnancy, something all women experience.” 

“Be gentle with her,” Chryse said. “She needs your love more than ever now.” 

I got up from my chair and went to her rooms. My love growled at me. 

_“I must be mad, or I would be killing you.”_

She had put on a woman’s dress which stretched over her growing belly, and swept by me proudly, disdainfully. I went out to the balcony at a loss how to respond. Presently she came to me, _put her hand over mine on the balustrade, and said, “He will be a boy.”_

Bending down to crouch on the ground in front of her, I kissed her feet before I kneeled to look up at her. Silently, I caressed her ankles, then slipped my hands beneath her skirt, trailing them up her legs, stroking her soft skin. 

“Theseus...” she said, in a small voice.

“Hush, my beauty,” I said, as my hands continued their ascent. “I have never before had this luxury of stroking your legs when you are clothed. Do not stop me now,” I begged. “Do not forbid me this new joy I never was allowed before you put on a woman’s dress.” 

She laughed, then caught her breath suddenly, as my fingers found the apex of her thighs. She moaned as I pulled her skirt over my head and blew kisses on heated flesh. She gripped the balustrade’s edge hard with white fingers, as I tasted; and all the while our play was hidden from view by the stonework of the balcony. Later, as we returned to her chambers I remarked that she was a cruel woman to have denied me the pleasure of seeing her in dresses before now. I said I would keep her that way for the next four months as punishment. 

“Sweet punishment” she replied, before kissing me square on the lips. 

To entertain her in the final months of pregnancy, I sent to Mykenai for a famous bard I had heard of, asking him to visit the Court. _As she grew heavy and idle, she would send for [him] to sing._ In the evenings, I dismissed the Court to join her. Together we listened to epic tales about the labours of Herakles, and an ode about Zeus’ love for Leto and their children. I rubbed her back when it ached, joking how she, as Artemis’ handmaiden, must be bearing twins. 

“Just one, I think,” she said. _“He sits high. They say it is a sign of a man.”_

I put off travel as much as I was able. Amyntor grumbled a bit when I asked him to go in my stead, but he understood how I hated to be from home as Hippolyta’s time grew closer. However, he was away in Kolonos dealing with a boundary dispute when I was summoned to Acharnai to deal _with a lord who had beaten a serf to death._ I had barely heard the complaint when a messenger came galloping to the village hall, to tell me her pains had started. I pushed my horse beyond reason, afraid she would give birth before I could join her. But the midwife met me at the door, turning me away, saying it would be some time. 

The night seemed endless. _In the cold low hours, I was seized by a notion she was dead, and they dared not tell me. I pushed through the gaggle of sleepy women on the threshold, and went inside._ They were scandalised, of course, but what cared I for that when my Hippolyta lay dying, as I thought. _I held her hand awhile, till I felt it tighten; then she snatched it back saying, “Now go away”._

“Only if you promise to yell, so I know you still live,” I replied. 

She smiled but shook her head, saying, “T’would not be seemly for one who was Artemis’ maiden. Your son deserves a strong mother.”

He was perfect from the moment he was born. How could he be anything else looking so much like his mother as he did. We shocked the Court, calling him after Hippolyta, instead of Aigeus after my father. The name suited him though, and he _grew like a young poplar planted by a stream._

Healthy as she was, Hippolyta recovered quickly, the more so since her milk soon dried up and the boy was put to wet-nurse. Within the month she was hunting again. She stayed close to the palace at first, but as her strength returned she ranged further. One morning she stopped me from going into town, demanding my company. Up to the Pnyx we rode. There we feasted on roast chicken, bread, and wine that she had brought in her saddlebag. Afterward she drew me down onto the cloak with her. She rested her head on my shoulder and pointed up at the clouds, naming the shapes they made in the blue sky. I told her I had only eyes for her. It wasn’t my eyes, she wanted, Hippolyta said, just before she reached across and pulled my head down to kiss. There was no more cloud gazing that day. 

Later, _by the evening fire, she [took Hippolytos] on her knee,_ and said to him, “Look at your father, my boy. For him I left Maiden Crag; for him I bore you. He is the king of my heart.”

* * * * *

She was the summer of my soul and I remember her still. 


End file.
